


To Paris, With Love

by MelodicWriter



Category: FBE, Fine Brothers Entertainment, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Au of sorts, I don't have much planned out so idk that many tags yet oops, M/M, Paris (City), Slow Burn, Teric, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-14 19:37:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17514692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodicWriter/pseuds/MelodicWriter
Summary: Tom Phelan works at a supermarket. Deep down, he starts to wonder if that's all he's destined to do. Enter: Paris. Tom makes a decision to follow his heart and do something impulsive. He travels away from LA to see what's out there beyond this mundane life he's trapped in. What will he find once he arrives in a completely strange land?





	1. Tireless Monotony

The question was thrown around seemingly everywhere Tom went. He heard it at social gatherings between friends. He heard it as he was throwing the trash out of the apartment on garbage day. He heard it even when he was restocking the shelves. Every single time despite the question not being asked directly to him, he froze.

"Are you happy with how your life is?"

It went something like that. There were slight variations, but the core idea remained the same. 

Maybe the question was always being asked and he was just hypersensitive to hearing it these days. It was something he pondered more and more as time dragged on. 

No. Tom could say with confidence that he wasn't happy in the slightest. I mean, how could he be? He worked in a supermarket doing mundane tasks. Each day working there was the same. The most excitement he got out of the day was when a customer needed his assistance or he was summoned by his obnoxious manager to clean up a spill in aisle 5. 

Aisle 5 had a lot of spills.

Not only did working there suck, but the money wasn't great either. He barely had enough to pay for necessary expenses. Once in a blue moon, he splurged and bought himself a DVD or a package of gum. Thank god for his roommate Brian. If it wasn't for him, he would have to pay twice as much and probably have to live in an apartment the size of a shoebox.

That was the state of his life. Working a shitty job and having just enough money to afford rent. It wasn't any way to live. Sure, it was _surviving_. He didn't want to just survive. 

"How was it today?" Brian asked as Tom plopped down on the couch beside him. He had gotten home twenty minutes ago from a particularly tiring shift. Some shifts were more exhausting than others. This was one of those shifts. His joints and muscles ached so bad all he wanted to do was sit. He was in desperate need of a shower, but he didn't care. He needed a break. 

"You know how it is." He grabbed the beer Brian held out to him. The condensation on the outside of the bottle cooled his sore fingers. "One guy paid in coins. I had to count them all."

Brian winced and took a sip of beer. "That's rough. We'll get out of this one day."

Tom twisted the top off and brought the bottle to his lips. He wrinkled his nose and drank. It was as cheap as it smelled. "Yeah? Will we?" Brian said that every time Tom complained about working at the supermarket. 

_Soon. One day. We'll look back on this and laugh._

It was possible Brian truly believed that optimistic sentiment; that all of this was temporary in the big scheme of things. But Tom knew better. As far as he was concerned, it was all empty promises to keep them going and stay motivated to wake up and subject themselves to cruel monotony day after day.

"Yeah. We moved to LA for a reason." Brian said, a hopeful smile on his face. 

Tom didn't have it in him to point out that they had been here for years. So far, nothing had come of it. They had been here so long that Tom didn't even remember why he originally wanted to. The memory was hazy.

"I guess." Tom drank again, this time more urgently—as if the low-cost substance could distract him from his subpar reality. He glanced down at his phone screen. 

11:47 PM.

He needed to get sleep. His shift for the next day began bright and early. Not to mention he needed time to shower. Tom downed the beer and set the now empty bottle onto the table covered in bills. 

Bills, bills, bills. Stupid fucking bills.

"I'm gonna go shower and get some sleep. You get some too." Tom stood up and walked to the bathroom. The soles of his feet cried out; not wanting to move a single inch forward. Too bad. He had to shower. The manager wouldn't be happy if he came in tomorrow stinking like sweat and stale milk.

Tom stared at the selection of towels in the closet outside of the bathroom. He couldn't find his favorite; a pineapple with sunglasses. He had used it so many times that the bright yellow of the fruit was faded. Its' smile could've been perceived as a frown. 

"Oh c'mon. Where is it..." Tom muttered out loud to himself, sifting past towels of plain white and green. He had a long day. It may have have seemed childish, but seeing the happy little pineapple brought him an ounce of joy. All he wanted was his special towel. Could the universe not even do that for him?

Tom kept looking. He wouldn't give up. Finally, he spotted a flash of yellow. He snagged the towel, yanking it free from the mess he had created upon his frantic search.

"Yes. There you are." He glanced at the pineapple's smile-frown and tucked it under his arm. A small victory. 

Tom nearly passed out in the shower. His lids drooped as he massaged shampoo absentmindedly into his hair. The only thing that kept him awake was the scalding water that washed over his body. When he stepped out of the shower, his skin was pink. 

That night, Tom had a dream. He knew it was a dream the second he was in it. That was the point he was at. His mundane life had infiltrated one of the only places that was an escape from it all.

Most of the locations of his dream were ordinary—a store, the apartment, or god forbid; the supermarket. 

Though, it didn't seem that this dream was any of the above. Tom didn't recognize where he was. Cobble streets filled with joyous laughter. Along the streets were neat rows of shops. In the distance, the gentle strum of an acoustic guitar made its way to Tom's ears. It felt otherworldly—like a place out of a fantasy novel. 

The more he walked, the further intoxicated he became by his surroundings. People sat across from each other at outdoor cafes. Windows of old buildings were cracked open, voices spilling out from inside. There was an easiness in the atmosphere that didn't feel lazy. It felt perfectly relaxed. Tom didn't want to leave. He wanted to run into one of the houses and make himself at home. 

As Tom traveled along the side of the road, something resonated within him. Part of him believed he had seen the uneven roads and baskets of flowers somewhere before. Though, he had no idea where. He doubted that it was during one of his shifts. Maybe in a photograph?

Tom spotted a large park. The bumpy pavement from under him turned into soft grass. He sat on the ground, tucking his legs under him. Nothing could bother him here. He watched the passerby's around him. They all strolled in similar easygoing fashions.

Waking up was a great disappointment. Tom was ripped away from the small slice of peace he had been afforded in his dream world. He swore he could still hear the guitar as he sat up in bed. As badly as he wanted to slip back under the covers and try to return to the lively strangers and colorful houses, he had a job to do. Obligations don't wait for anyone. They certainly didn't wait for Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said I was going to write another Teric fic in the future. I did not plan on it being this soon. Buuuuut I've been struggling with my original works so here we are. I guess the only thing I can write decently is fic stuff. Sooooo yeah. This is my new idea. I'll be trying to work on this while also working on my original work. Hopefully this gives me more inspiration and motivation. As you can see, it's an AU of sorts. Some of it is accurate (Brian being Tom's roommate, them living in LA) but as you can see, Eric isn't there. Hmmmm. I wonder where he'll come in;)


	2. Always Right

"I told you Mrs.Sullivan, we don't carry that brand in stock anymore." Tom explained with a sigh. He was in the snack aisle filling the empty space reserved for pretzels with the new shipment that came in that morning. Mrs.Sullivan peered over Tom's shoulders as he set the bags in their proper place. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes as Tom did his best to not let her attitude get to him. It was hard to focus on doing his job while he was was being stared down angrily.

"Marcus told me otherwise. He said more would be coming in this week."

Marcus was the model supermarket employee. His incessant whistling and broad smiles always got on Tom's nerves. To the general public, Marcus was an outstanding worker. He did whatever was asked of him, attended to the customers' needs, and never showed up late. To Tom, he was a completely different person. Marcus was much more petty and rude behind the scenes. He tried to get on Tom's nerves no matter what. It was a very one-sided rivalry to Tom. He never cared much about retaliating. He just wanted to get through the day with all of his sanity in tact.

"He might've meant something else. I can find an alternative brand for you instead, if you want."

"No. I want _this_ specific one." Mrs.Sullivan remained stubborn in her ways. Tom picked up another pretzel bag.

"Unfortunately, we don't have that one." The forced smile on his face held back every rude thing he wanted to spit out. He had things to do. He didn't have the time or energy to argue about a line of lotion for the majority of the day. "But I can direct you to another good brand."

Mrs.Sullivan smacked the pretzel bag in Tom's hand onto the floor. "I don't think your manager would be pleased to know that you're incompetent." She shifted her purse that had fallen down her arm to back up on her shoulder and stormed off.

Tom picked up the bag and gritted his teeth. Perfect. He would get an earful about this later. Even when he explained he maintained his cool, his manager would insist he was at fault anyhow.

"That doesn't sound like a happy customer." 

Tom glanced over. Marcus; the cherry on top of this shit day, arriving with his signature little smirk too. He rolled his eyes and turned back to the almost finished shelf.

"Maybe she would've been a happy customer if you didn't tell said customer that we still carried a certain product we don't anymore." 

"We don't? Oops, my bad." Marcus said, a gleam in his eye. "Must've forgotten."

Tom didn't buy it for a minute. Marcus seldom 'forgot' anything. It was just another tactic to antagonize him. "Yeah, I'm sure you did." He picked up the empty box. "You should go take care of her before she complains to Adam." 

"Seeee I would, but I have a cashier to fill in for." Marcus said, walking away from Tom to the front of the store. He winked right before he rounded the corner and fell out of sight.

Tom shook his head to himself and walked outside to where the dumpster resided. Stepping out of the store cleared his mind. Summer was coming in a month or so, apparent by the warm sun beating down on Tom's back. He breathed in the fresh air and let it fill his lungs. He threw the empty box into the trash and took one glance around before heading back inside;one last moment of solace.

"Hey Tom." 

"Oh, hey Lilah." The door closed sharply, making Tom flinch. One of his coworkers, Lilah Schmitt, twirled strands of light blonde hair around her thin fingers. 

"How are you doing today?" She spoke so quietly that Tom struggled to make out the words. He leaned in. 

"What?"

"I asked how you're doing today." 

"I'm doing okay. How about you?"

"I'm doing okay too." Lilah smiled, brushing her hair away from her face. "Adam wants to speak with you."

"Wow, a new record." Barely ten minutes had passed since the interaction with Mrs.Sullivan and already Adam was calling for him. 

"Yeah, he seemed pretty mad." Lilah scrunched her nose. "What happened?"

"Long story." Tom didn't want to rehash it. "Where is he?" 

"In the back. I could try and talk to him, if you want." Lilah shyly volunteered. Tom shook his head.

"I'll handle him." 

The back of the supermarket was piled high with miscellaneous items; some of which being things that they hadn't got around to putting out on the shelves to defective products that no one had been motivated enough to dispose of. Adam was pacing back and forth. His head snapped up when Tom walked into the room.

"Took you long enough to get here."

"I came as soon as I knew you were looking for me." Tom kicked aside a small box that threatened to trip him. "I know you're gonna yell at me, but-"

"Damn right I am! Harassing customers? Not cool, man." Adam straightened his tie and ran a hand through his black hair. "This is the second warning I've given you this week."

"I didn't harass anyone! She just said that because I told her we didn't carry certain lotion anymore. I can't do anything about that, unless you want to order more of that kind." 

"Attitude, watch it." Adam warned, pointing a finger at Tom. "What's our saying?"

Tom shot him an incredulous look. "You don't expect me to really say it, do you?"

"What's the saying, Tom?" Adam cupped a hand around his ear. Tom gritted his teeth for what felt like the hundredth time all day.

"The customer is always right." The words were painful to speak and Tom was unable to do so without cringing. Adam nodded.

"That's right. The customer is always right." 

Tom didn't bother adding anything after that. Adam wouldn't budge from his stance. A customer could murder someone and he would _still_ insist that somehow, it wasn't their fault and surely they were in the right. 

"Now that that's settled, are you going to go out there and make sure the customers are happy?"

Tom nodded. "Yessir." Anything to stop talking to Adam and get out of the stuffy back room. Adam grinned and patted Tom on the back.

"That's what I like to hear!"

*****

Tom made sure he was on his best behavior for the rest of his shift. He smiled so much his mouth was incredibly sore when he got to finally go home. Being nauseatingly nice was hard enough. To make matters worse, Marcus caught on and spent his time mocking Tom; making Tom wonder if it was within guidelines to assault a coworker.

Brian wasn't home when Tom walked through the apartment door. While he liked spending time with his best friend, he had to admit that it was relaxing to have some time alone. He grabbed his laptop and settled into the soft couch cushions. 

Tom spent a fair amount of time online. When he wasn't slaving away at his job or hanging out with Brian, he browsed social media or looked for some TV series to get invested in. Anything that would take his mind off of the pains of everyday life was kindly welcomed. Currently, he was binging Game of Thrones. He signed onto the laptop and queued up the episode he left off on. It wasn't long before he turned into a catatonic state, slumped over and glassy eyed. 

Once he realized he wasn't really paying attention, he paused the episode. He saw no point in continuing if he wasn't retaining any of the story. To take a small intermission from the show, he went on google. 

Though he couldn't explain it, his dream came flashing through his mind as the cursor blinked over the search bar. He saw it as clearly as if he had been there himself; the cobblestone streets, the lively people, the old school buildings. After letting the thoughts settle in, he had a silly idea.

His fingers moved over the keyboard, not sure where to land. He had no clue on what to type in. Maybe the dream was just that; a dream. It may have been a pure construction of his mind and nothing more, having no bases in reality whatsoever. Tom thought otherwise. It seemed too elaborate and vibrant to be just something his exhausted mind worked up.

His first search yielded nothing. Well, Tom did find a bunch of worn down looking streets and faded buildings, but none of them matched his dream. He messed around, altering the searches little by little. Still, nothing. 

"Tommy?" Brian slid his jacket off and set it on the back of one of the chairs surrounding their small dinner table. He made his way over to Tom and ruffled his hair. "Home already?"

"I hate when you call me that, and yeah." Tom hit Brian's hand away from his hair. "How was work?"

"It was fine. Jackson was being a jackass like usual." Brian walked over to the kitchen and pulled out a frozen pizza. "You opposed to some cardboard pizza?"

"That's fine." Tom glanced over as Brian opened the box and popped the pizza into the oven. "That's why we call him Jackson the Jackass, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes it is." Brian set the timer. "It never fails to be appropriate for him."

Tom looked back at his laptop and got back to messing around with searches. He was determined to see if he could find a match. It was unlikely, but Tom didn't give up that easily. It wasn't until Brian brought the entire pizza over on the tray that he found it.

The image looking back at him was almost identical; raised tile roofs, old brick and stone buildings, colorful baskets of flowers, outdoor cafes, and even the little house he remembered wanting to venture into. His heart raced just skimming the picture over.

"What's that?" Brian asked, a slice of pizza dangling from his mouth.

"Nothing." Tom closed the laptop. He mentally vowed to come back to the picture later without the risk of sounding crazy to his roommate. "Pass me a piece."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a real pain. I cranked out most of it tonight because lately my mind has not been in a writing state of mind. I'm glad I got this chapter done for y'all. I hope you liked it! No Eric yet, but don't fret. There will be plentyyyy of Eric to come:)


	3. Coming to Conclusions

After eating several slices of pizza, Tom retired to his room. He clicked on the link associated with the picture. The link brought him to a black and white website, contrasting against the vast array of striking photographs on screen. Photographs ranged from girls in flowey dresses to a city submerged in rain. The specific photo in question was nestled between a cat resting on a window sill and a cluster of pine trees.

Underneath the picture was a caption in small text.

_'Mingling of Life': Paris, 2017._

Only two years ago. Tom's eyes widened. He had found the mystery location: Paris, France. Definitely not made up. Tom was glad to know his inferences of it being a real place were confirmed. With this new connection, he returned back to Google.

_Paris France_

Right away, he was overwhelmed with images; The impressive Eiffel Tower standing tall into the blue sky with hordes of people at the base. A carousel lit up at night. A large church by a river. Crumbling brick and weathered walls. Tom knew he had to sleep, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the beautiful Paris scenery. Every new photo only heightened his interest. Hours passed, though Tom didn't take notice. He was far too intrigued in discovering all he could that time wasn't relevant. He fell asleep with the laptop opened, the Louvre staring at him as his eyes fluttered closed. 

Over the course of the next month, Tom had developed a sort of routine. Every night when he would get home from work, he would busy himself with researching more about Paris. He learned about various customs, the best spots to visit, cost rates, and even some of the language.

"Je veux de la nourriture." 

"Your accent is awful, and what did I tell you about speaking French? I don't know what you're saying, even if poorly said." Brian rolled his eyes. "Stick to English."

Work was more bearable with something to look forward to. Whenever he wanted to dip out of the supermarket, he just imagined he was wandering the streets of Paris. His daydreams were so vivid, he could hear the gentle waves of the Seine. It wasn't all great. Sometimes he would forget it was a daydream and not reality. Once, a customer had to yell until he snapped out of it and was able to ring up her purchases.

"Something on your mind?" Marcus asked. He was working the register next to Tom (lucky him). From a normal person, the question would be thoughtful. But of course, Marcus wasn't normal. Not when it came to Tom. Surely he wanted to find out to hold it over his head or harass him. Tom scoffed.

"I'm sure you'd like to know."

"Do tell."

"Hah. Not a chance." Tom replied, straightening out a row of gum packets. "Over my dead body."

"That can be arranged." Marcus chuckled. He opened his mouth to add something snarky when a customer came into his aisle. The shift was immediate. 

"Hello! Did you find everything alright?" His white teeth posed into the perfect grin. Tom snickered and attended to the customer in his own aisle.

*****

The next day started off as most other days did. Tom groggily threw the covers off his bed and groaned when he saw the time. He ate a small breakfast, put on his uniform, and brushed his teeth. He waved bye to Brian and drove to work. The drive was relatively smooth, except for a bird that almost flew into the windshield. Any leftover tiredness was dashed upon seeing a frenzy of wings in his face.

Work went as he expected, although maybe that was the problem. It hit Tom as he was cleaning up a mess in the candy aisle. A pair of rowdy kids had come through and grabbed handfuls of candy. Powdery evidence blanketed the floor. Tom was called to task to take care of it. All of the more gritty jobs were delegated to him, as Adam preferred Marcus and the other employees more.

So as Tom was taking care of the mess, the thought ate away at him. No matter how hard he tried to suppress it or go to Paris in his mind, it wouldn't fade. It stayed there; annoyingly persistent.

What if most of his life was through and this is still what he was doing; Restocking shelves and cleaning up after irresponsible kids?

Tom shuddered. The possibility of that scared him more than he wanted to admit. He could see it now; everything the same except for the addition of wrinkles creasing his once soft face. 

The sentiment stayed with Tom during his shift, like it was tethered to him on a leash. He couldn't do anything without picturing his much older self doing the same. He felt nauseous, having to sit down and take a break. He feared that if he stood, he would throw up the meager contents of his stomach.

"Tom? You look pale." Lilah sat down next to him, tilting her head. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm okay. Just... have a bad headache." Tom's lying was as poor as his French, but Lilah didn't seem to catch on. She dug out a small bottle from the pocket of jeans and handed it over to Tom.

"What's this?" Tom fidgeted with the cap.

"Advil. It's my go to for headaches." She smiled. "You can take some. I hope it'll help."

Tom shook his head. handing it back. "No, it's okay. I think it's starting to feel a little better." To support his lie, he stood up. "See?"

Lilah pocketed the bottle hesitantly. Her eyes searched his face, but if she disagreed, she didn't make it known. "Oh, that's good. I'm glad. If it comes back, let me know. I can give you some." She stood up. As she did so, she stumbled.

Tom got to his feet and grabbed her before she could fall into the display of fruit near them. She gasped, looking into Tom's eyes. 

"Thank you for catching me." Her cheeks flushed pink. It was strange, but Tom didn't think much of it. He helped her to stand upright.

"No problem. That would've been bad." He glanced at the fruit arranged into a pyramid. A lucky save on his part. He was sure if the fruit happened to fall, he would be the one fixing it. "Be careful."

Her blush deepened. "W-Will do." She bashfully smiled before scurrying off. 

Now that that was over with, the thoughts were back in full swing. Amidst the sea of terror was one idea that brought him a sliver of relief. It was crazy. Just as the thought crossed his mind, he shut it down. No, he couldn't. That would be the most impulsive thing he ever had done up to this point. Tom liked stability with a healthy dose of risk, not doing something as stupid as swimming in a shark-infested ocean with no gear.

_I could move to Paris._

He had spent so much time looking up things about Paris, it was already as if he lived there in a way. This was a natural progression of thought; or at least that's what he told himself to try to justify the idea being in his head.

_At least for the summer._

Limiting the length made Tom feel less crazy. Summer only spanned for a couple months and they were already a week into June. Less than a couple months wasn't so bad. It would be a nice change of pace. Except, the pleasant notion was quickly interrupted by spurts of realism.

Paris was in a completely different country—scratch that— _continent_.

Tom had barely been out of the US, let alone another continent or country. The move from Massachusetts to California was a big enough deal and that was just within the same country. Even with all his research, he had no idea what it was truly like to live in Europe, not to mention the fact he didn't have the best grip on the native language.

Despite it seeming impossible realistically, Tom couldn't stop thinking about it; about _really_ seeing Paris firsthand rather than spending late night hours poring over high resolution images on his laptop. His heart pounded in the confines of chest. He felt more alive in this moment while he considered being there than he had in the past three years combined.

To call it a bold move was an understatement. He would have to quit his job, figure out how to pack up his mementos into a small luggage or two, and leave life as he knew it behind. Leaving the supermarket behind would be an easy feat. It was no secret that Tom dreaded coming into work each day. The only downside would be that he would be without a source of income.

No, even that could be dealt with. Paris had jobs. What Tom worried about the most was Brian. Brian and him went to the same High School. Tom was a bit of a loner, preferring to keep to himself. Brian came up to him one day and struck up conversation as if they had been friends for years prior. Tom went along with it and him and Brian were inseparable after. Brian took him to all the cool parties, partnered up with him in class even when he could've been partners with anyone in the room, and spent his weekends hanging out with Tom. 

Not many people remembered the lame shy kid. They saw him as Brian's funny and goofy friend. Brian ultimately helped Tom come out of his shell. So when Brian talked about his big aspirations for moving out to LA, Tom agreed. It was a new and fun adventure for the two of them to take on together.

So facing the possibility of leaving his trusty friend behind brought a wave of sadness over him. While he said summer in his mind, he didn't know how long he would be gone for. He could try and make it as predictable and clear cut as he wanted—but the truth was that if he went, he didn't know when or _if_ he would be back. It was a gamble.

How do you even bring that up to someone? Tom wasn't sure. He couldn't just sit down with Brian over a meal of cheap frozen pizza and bring it up as if he was stating a grocery list.

_We need milk, eggs, cereal, and I'm going to be moving to Paris. Oh and maybe some more soda. We've been running low._

Tom bit his lip. He wasn't sure how Brian would react. All he knew was that it wouldn't be good.

"Did you forget you have a shift right now?" Marcus sneered, walking over to Tom. "Wouldn't want to report you to Adam."

"Go ahead. Tell him. In fact, I quit." Tom said. His own words didn't register right away. It wasn't until he glanced over at Marcus' shocked expression that he fully comprehended what that meant. 

_Holy fuck I just quit my job._

Marcus tried to recover, wiping all traces of surprise, but it didn't work. He was stunned. 

"You...quit?"

Tom paused. He could take it all back. He could pretend it was a slip of the tongue and go on cleaning and restocking. He could say the whole Paris thing was a temporary breach in sanity and forget about it...

But Tom wasn't about to back down now.

"Yeah, I quit." Tom untied his apron and handed it over to Marcus. He hands trembled, almost dropping it in the process. Marcus looked down at the apron and then back up at Tom. For once, no sneer graced his lips.

"Why?"

"I'll be back eventually. Maybe. I'm not sure yet." 

"This is... pretty sudden."

Tom nervously laughed. "Yeah. It is. Try not to miss me too much."

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll try. It'll be devastating to not see your dumb swoopy hair every day. Oh what ever will I do?"

Tom smiled. That's the Marcus he was used to. "You'll have to find someone new to harass."

Marcus looked around the store with a dissatisfied glance. "I'll have to settle for someone less fun to make fun of. How unfortunate."

As much as he and Marcus were at odds with each other, this moment was strangely tender to Tom. A small (very small) part of him thought maybe he would miss Marcus (a little).

"Are you sure you don't want to tell Adam yourself?" Marcus let the apron droop over his arm. Tom shook his head.

"Yeah I'm sure. Tell him that I don't know when I'll be back and I've enjoyed working here." Half of the statement was true. Tom had no clue when he would be back, but he definitely didn't enjoy working here. Obviously, or he wouldn't be going to such lengths as to leave to a different country.

Marcus nodded. "Will do. You take care." He leaned over to hug Tom, but pulled back before his arm could wrap around him. Tom was thankful. A hug with Marcus would be too awkward. 

Marcus looked Tom up and down and walked away. His usually confident steps were much more slower and sporadic.

_I guess I just leave now._

Tom began walking towards the door. Without his apron on, he felt especially vulnerable—like every pair of eyes in the supermarket were locked on him.

"Is your shift already over?"

Tom turned around and froze. Lilah. 

"Er... No. Well, yeah. Not exactly." Tom's reply was a confusing mess of contradictions. "Uh..."

"What is it, Tom?" 

"I uh... quit." 

Lilah squinted at Tom. "Huh?"

"I said I quit." He kept his voice as low as possible. He didn't need everyone finding out. This was supposed to be discreet. In retrospect, Tom thought maybe he should've just walked past everyone and threw his apron at Adam as a big 'Fuck you'. That would've been a sight to see.

"You... quit? Why?" Her tone was soft. Tom detected a hint of pain, though he wasn't sure why. His quitting had nothing to do with her.

"Don't ask."

"Tell me."

"No reason."

"That's a lie and you know it." Lilah frowned, crossing her arms. "So tell me why."

The longer he stood there and argued, the higher the chance that Adam could catch him on his way out. He sighed.

"Ok, fine." He inhaled deeply. "I'm going to go... somewhere."

Lilah cocked her head. "Go somewhere? Couldn't you just have asked for a week off or something?"

Tom shook his head. "I'll be gone longer than a week."

"Okay, so then a week and a half. I think quitting is a bit dras-"

"A couple of months, minimum." 

Lilah clamped her mouth shut. A few seconds went by before she spoke again.

"A couple months? Where are you going? Spain?!"

"That actually isn't too far off." Tom scratched his head. Admitting it out loud made it seem so much worse. Damn her for asking. 

Lilah's mouth hung open. "What?"

"Yeah. I'm going to France for a couple of months." On the bright side, this was good practice for Brian. If he could navigate this smoothly, telling his best friend would be easier.

Lilah blinked rapidly. "You... are going to France?" She said it slowly, pronouncing each word to its fullest extent. 

"Yes." 

"Why?"

"It sounds corny, but I want to find myself. I'm not happy working here. I want to see if there is anything else out there for me." 

Tom looked down at the floor, which was severely in need of a cleaning. Out of instinct, he almost moved to grab a mop. "That might not make sense, sorry."

"No, it makes sense, I just..." Lilah trailed off, chewing on her lip. 

"You just what?"

"I'mgonnamissyou." Her words clumped together. Tom had no idea what she had said.

"What was that?"

Lilah took awhile to meet Tom's gaze. Her eyes seemed calculating, hiding something behind them.

"Lilah?"

Instead of responding with words, Lilah grabbed Tom's face and kissed him.

Tom jerked away, staring wildly at Lilah as if she had just brought a scorpion into the store. "What was that?"

"I don't want you to go to Paris." She blushed furiously, touching Tom's cheek. "You can find your place here, with me."

Tom was bewildered. This was all so sudden, his head was spinning. He didn't like Lilah whatsoever. Sure, she was a nice girl and all, but he didn't want to date her. Their whole past of interactions now felt tainted by a cloud of embarrassment.

"I should go." Tom walked towards the door. He glanced back at Lilah one more time. Her face was beet red. She hung her head in shame.

"Have a good rest of your day." Tom said as casually as possible, as if she totally didn't just kiss him. He waited for her to say something—a bye, a good luck, anything. Nothing. The most she did was meet Tom's eyes one last time. 

Tom sighed and walked outside into the realm of the hot sun. He got into his car and cranked the AC.

_Well one thing is for sure. I won't have to worry about Brian trying to kiss me when I tell him the news._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the main plot really begins. I hope you're liking the story so far. Be sure to let me know if you are. I appreciate all the comments I get! These long stories are so fun because I get to come up with OC's who fit in nicely and expand on existing relationships/friendships and hhhhh it's a fun time. Like Brian and Tom! I wonder how Brian will react to the news.


	4. Takeout & Tears

Tom had the rest of the day to kill before Brian came home. He wasn't sure what to occupy his time with. At this time each day, he was working wishing he wasn't. Now that he actually wasn't, he didn't know what to do.

_I could start packing._

Tom walked to his room, floorboards creaking underfoot. He sat down on his bed, glancing around. He didn't pay much attention to his room. It was where he rested his head at night and that was that. Beyond that, it wasn't much. The walls were bare with the exception of a poster of Massachusetts. There was a chair in the corner of the room that Tom used to pile clean laundry on when he was too lazy to put it away, and a dresser across from the bed he was currently perched on. Packing didn't seem hard with how much little he had to his name.

Or at least that's what he thought until he started packing.

Tom didn't care about clothes. He threw in a decent amount of t-shirts, sweaters, and jeans. Not too much. He had to save room for more important items and the essentials. Though, he put most of the necessities in his carry-on backpack. He'd heard enough horror stories about luggage getting lost to know that he shouldn't place things of utmost importance in there.

Tom put most of his things into his suitcase with indifference. Things like toothpaste, deodorant, and socks were easy to pack away. With that, he only struggled trying to keep track of everything. More than once, he forgot he already included something and had to take out the extras.

He was packing a pair of shoes when he stumbled onto something that caught him off guard. So much so, that he had to sit down.

In his hands was a picture of his family. It was taken around Christmas time. Him, his parents, and his brothers were crowding around a large pine tree decked out in shiny ornaments. He remembered the moment of the picture being taken. At the time, he didn't really want to pose. He was more intent on playing video games than smiling for a camera. The smile on his face was forced, but he tried his best to appear content. An outsider would likely read his smile as happy. He had perfected a fake smile over the years. 

But as he was packing, the smile on his face now was real. He was grateful he had listened to his mom's nagging. That was one of the last Christmas' with everyone together, and one of the last before Tom had jetted off to California with Brian. His eyes welled up as he stared at the photograph. He ran his finger over the surface and tucked it away safely into his backpack. Blinking the tears out of his eyes, he got back to business.

The click of the lock alerted Tom that Brian was back. He set the denim jacket wrapped up in his arms on top of the suitcase and walked out to meet Brian. He could hear his heart racing in his ears as Brian stepped into the apartment.

"It was so hot at work, it was unbelievable. They swear the AC was on, but I'm not convinced." Brian kicked his shoes off. "I bet the supermarket wasn't much better."

_I wouldn't know. I wasn't there that long today._

"Uh, yeah. Super hot." Tom rubbed his neck, which was burning up. Brian walked into the kitchen.

"Any idea what we should have for dinner?"

"Anything is fine by me. You can choose." 

"Sweet. I'm feeling in the mood for Chinese tonight. Is that good by you?"

"Yeah, sounds good."

Tom anxiously tapped his foot on the floor. Paris was looming over his head. It was inevitable. If Brian decided to peek in his room, he would see a mess of clothes on the floor and a suitcase propped open. If he ran late tomorrow, he would wonder why Tom was still in bed. He couldn't hide the truth for much longer.

When the Chinese showed up, Brian and Tom sat on the couch. Brian shoved the bag into Tom's hands and searched for the remote.

"This stupid thing is always getting lost."

"Try in between the cushions." Tom took the containers of food out of the bag. He went with his go to dish—Chicken Lo Mein. If he was being honest, eating was the last thing on his mind. Even though it was his favorite Chinese takeout food, it was hard to think about filling his stomach. He swirled the noodles around with a fork. Brian let out a victory cry.

"Got it! Good suggestion. I think it ends up buried in the cushions half the time." Brian turned the TV on. The default channel was a news station. It didn't take long for Brian to change it to some reality show Tom had never watched. He preferred scripted shows to the petty antics of reality TV. Brian was enamored, unlike Tom. Strands of chicken hung out of his mouth as he watched intently.

Tom glanced over at his best friend and roommate. Guilt crept up through Tom, filling every part of his body until it felt suffocating. He coughed and shoved a small amount of noodles into his mouth. The seasoned and delicious noodles tasted rubbery.

"Pay attention! The rose ceremony is coming up." Brian said, nudging Tom with his elbow. "I have a feeling that Kayla is gonna go home. Her date this week didn't go that well." 

"Yeah?" Tom forced himself to watch the screen. Girls in formal dresses were clustered around, drinks in hand. They seemed nervous like him.

_How appropriate._

"Brian?" Tom said quietly. Brian stayed focused on the TV, not looking towards Tom at all. Tom coughed and tried again.

"Brian." This time it was more a statement and not a question. 

"What? The Lo Mein not good?"

"What? No. The food is fine." Tom set the takeout box down on the table. "It has nothing to do with that."

"Then what is it?"

"Uh." Tom swallowed hard. His past with Brian flashed through his mind; the first time they hung out outside of school. The countless late gaming nights. The first night away from their home together. Was all of that going to be ruined?

"Well, I, er..."

"You never have trouble saying what you wanna tell me. Go on."

"It's gonna really change stuff." 

Brian looked away from a girl in a black dress being handed a rose. "How so?"

"Trust me on this. We've been together mostly every night since we moved, and-"

"-Is this your way of breaking up with me?" Brian joked, a cheeky smile on his face. Tom couldn't help smiling.

"No, but we might not be together for... some time."

"What do you mean?"

_No more stalling. I gotta just say it and get it all out in the open._

"I'mgoingtobemovingtoParisforabit." The words tumbled out ungracefully. Brian looked as confused as he did when the conversation started, if not even more.

"Huh?"

"I said," Tom paused. "That I'm moving to Paris for a bit."

"Paris? Like, France?"

"Yeah. That Paris." Tom looked for any changes in his face, even the slightest movement. So far, nothing. Tom figured Brian was trying to process everything. He imagined if the roles were reversed and it was Brian moving instead of him, he would be pretty confused too.

"Why?" Brian stopped eating. He let his food rest in his lap, giving all his attention to Tom. Tom looked away, feeling under some sort of pressure. Amazing how just one little question could render him speechless. 

"Tell me." Brian demanded, a sense of urgency in his voice as if the plane was going to materialize out of thin air and scoop Tom up any second now. "Tell me why."

Tom wasn't brave enough to meet Brian's gaze. The hurt radiating from his voice was enough to overwhelm him. He rubbed his thigh with his hand and kept looking down.

"I can't take living like this anymore. I'm miserable going to the same shitty job each day. It's awful, Brian. I know your job isn't great either, and maybe you can deal with it but I can't. I can't keep going on knowing there could be more for me out there when this is all I'm doing."

"You don't have to move that far to try and find a greater sense of purpose. We can scout out some casting calls out. Like, really look this time." 

"That sounds good in theory, but you know what will happen. I'll get maybe one commercial if I'm lucky and that's it. I don't want to just do ads. I don't even know if I wanna do acting. I just wanna do... something. Something more. I think being in a completely different place where I know no one could be really beneficial. It would be like having a clean slate."

"Clean slate? Yours isn't dirty in the first place." Brian's rising tone drowned out the squeals coming from the TV. "This is pretty drastic."

"Moving out to LA was pretty drastic." Tom pointed out.

"This is more drastic than that. We came out here together. Not to mention, Paris is in a whole different country. You barely know the language. How do you think that's gonna go?"

"I won't know if I don't try." Tom gained the strength to look Brian in the eye. He knew this whole plan was wild. He had to be strong about the idea. If he wasn't, Brian would see right through him and use his nervousness to try and sway him to give it up. "Besides, I already quit my job so there's no going back."

Brian's eyes bulged out of his head. "You... What?"

"I quit earlier today." Tom reiterated. "Handed my apron to Marcus and walked out. Well, after Lilah kissed me." Hours had passed since the Lilah incident and Tom was as uncomfortable as before.

Brian opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Tom realized it probably wasn't smart to bring up more information Brian wasn't privy to _as_ he was still trying to process the whole Paris thing.

"How long did you know you were going to do this?" Brian said, sounding a lot smaller than he actually was. More guilt flooded Tom.

_This guilt might crush me before I can get to Paris. Brian's in luck._

"I decided today, actually." Tom hoped the fact that it wasn't that long would soften the blow.

"Is your mind made up on this for sure? Like 100% sure?"

"Nothing is 100% sure," Tom said. "But I think this is what I need to do. I won't lie; I'm scared myself. This is a big deal, and I know that. But I would rather take a chance than keep living my life safely."

Brian stayed silent and stared at Tom. He didn't say anything for a good minute.

"I can't pay for this apartment all by myself."

Tom cursed under his breath. He hadn't thought about that.

"Maybe someone could temporarily move in." As much as it pained him to think about someone coming in and replacing him, he knew it was the most practical solution. "Or maybe pick up another job."

"I... guess. I don't know." Brian mumbled, scratching his head. "It's a lot to think about."

"Of course it is. I'll leave you this month's rent payment so you at least have that." 

Brian took a bite of his Fried rice. "Thanks." His gaze turned back to the TV.

It didn't take a genius to see that something had shifted. Tom couldn't take his eyes off Brian. At this point, his food was cold, but he didn't care. He was more worried about Brian. He certainly didn't want to go to a foreign country on bad terms with him.

"I'll miss you."

He didn't mean to say it. The words came out instinctively. It was true. He would miss Brian. _A lot_. Brian and him rarely had moments apart. In their younger years, Tom would tag along to parties, so much so that Brian's friends would ask where Tom was if they didn't see him right away. In their older years, the two went out to bars and events together all the time. In Paris, he wouldn't have that luxury. He forgot what it was like to be on his own, in a way.

"Don't say that." Brian said, choked up.

"I will. It's gonna be weird to be without you."

Tom watched as Brian stood up, slowly starting to walk away. Tom quickly got up after him, following him down the hallway.

"Don't go." Tom laid a hand on Brian's shoulder, which trembled under his grasp. Brian stopped walking, but made no effort to face Tom.

"Why not? You're leaving." 

"I want to spend my last night here with you." Tom said, his own voice being choked out by a sob. 

_Don't cry. Hold it together._

"We started this journey together. It's only fair that we...end it together. At least my part of the journey..." Tom said, voice trailing off. His words disintegrated into the tense air around them.

Brian slowly turned around. Tom was shocked to see tears rolling down his face. He only saw Brian cry once in the course of their entire friendship. The fact that he was now crying over Tom leaving just about broke him.

Tom wrapped his arms around Brian, pulling him into a hug. Brian rested his head in the crook of Tom's neck. Wet tears dripped onto Tom's skin as he held Brian close to him.

"We can video chat and text. It'll be like I never left."

"It won't be the same. You won't be here. I can't just yell from across the apartment and carry out a conversation like that. We won't get to do stupid things drunk together. We won't get to stay up playing new games that come out until we can't even think straight."

If Tom wasn't as committed to Paris as he was, upon hearing that he would've given up right there. Thinking about all his memories with Brian was bittersweet. A tear slipped out of the corner of his eye.

"We'll get to do that stuff again some day." Tom reassured. "This isn't the end of Tom and Brian."

Brian looked up at Tom, a small smile forming on his lips. "Promise?"

Tom nodded. "Yeah, I promise." 

Brian laughed, wiping his eyes and walking back towards the couch. "You better not tell anyone I cried over you."

Tom mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key. "My lips are sealed."

Brian and Tom settled back into the couch. Brian groaned as he picked up his takeout box. "My rice is cold and we missed the rose ceremony!"

"Well, good thing we have a microwave. As far as the ceremony is concerned, I'm sure you can find spoilers on Twitter."

Brian grinned at Tom. "What am I gonna do without you?"

Tom laughed. "Try not to die."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I love Brian and Tom so much!! Writing this chapter made me want to do a Brian and Tom spinoff because their friendship is so adorable in this fic. Also fun fact: I've never actually had Chinese takeout, but after writing this chapter, I want it soooo bad. Sorry if you read this chapter when you're hungry haha


	5. Hôtel Plaza Athénée

Tom woke up bright and early the next morning. Ideally, he would've liked his first official day free from the supermarket to start in the gentle afternoon hours. Unfortunately, the flight to Paris was long and he needed to rise at the break of dawn. He booked a last minute ticket after dinner last night. His seat wasn't great, but at least he had one.

The suitcase sat posed and ready by the door. Tom stumbled to get to it. The apartment was in a shroud of darkness and he was too groggy to search for a light switch. With his head in a daze, he tried to run through everything before he left.

_Passport? Check. Phone? Check. Wallet? Check. Money for Brian?_

_Brian._

Brian wasn't awake yet. He still had an hour before his alarm would blare throughout the apartment. When he awoke, he would be the only one to hear the obnoxious noise. It didn't feel right to Tom that he wouldn't get one last goodbye with his roommate. So in his tired haze, he found a pen and an index card.

_Brian~_

_By the time you read this, I'll be at the airport. I hope you have a good day at work. Make sure you put Jackson the Jackass in his place for me. I'll let you know when my flight lands._

_-Tom (or Tommy boy as you so fondly call me)_

Tom read the note over and laughed to himself. He could picture Brian smiling and shaking his head as he looked at the note. He set it on top of the money envelope and went back over to his suitcase.

After making sure of a few more additional things, he was ready. There was no more prolonging this. Paris awaited him. He gripped the handle of the suitcase and took one last glance around the apartment.

"You've been good to me. Keep being good to Brian." And with that, Tom walked outside. The sound of the door closing rang out behind him.

Airports were not Tom's favorite place to be. Scratch that. That was too lenient. Tom would go as far to say his distaste of airports was pretty intense. They were always a sort of purgatory. No one wanted to be there. It was simply a moving ground to get to where one desired. Not to mention, he usually arrived when he was exhausted, making the experience even more intolerable.

LAX was exceptionally crowded for the time being 6:30 AM. Tom's feet dragged along, his luggage trailing behind him like a nuisance all the way to the checkout counter. He was more than pleased to have the lugagge taken. The airline attendant printed out his boarding pass, handing it over to him with an unamused expression. 

Tom glanced down. The ticket stated that his flight departed in little over an hour. He smiled politely at the attendant.

"Thank you."

She grunted, acknowledging that Tom had spoken. He supposed this was the best he was gonna get and moved on.

Tom walked over to the security line. A growing uneasiness formed in his chest. Out of all of the airport annoyances, this one bothered him the most. Though he was doing nothing wrong and wasn't concealing any sort of weapon, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. Being screened at all made him think that he was considered suspicious (though there was no logical reason for that). Tom knew he wasn't that threatening. Unless you considered a guy of average build and floppy brown hair threatening.

"Take off your shoes and place your things in the plastic trays nearby. No liquids above 3 ounces. Make sure all snacks are out of your bags. When you come up to the scanner, make sure any metal is off of you." A man in a neat uniform shouted over the clanking and rustling of people taking their shoes off and trying to urgently search through their bags.

_Damn. I forgot I had my water bottle on me._

Tom slipped his sneakers off and set them into a tray, along with his phone, and snacks. After going through his bag, he set the whole thing in its entirety on the conveyor belt to be scanned.

"You can't have that." One of the workers pointed at the plastic water bottle in Tom's hand.

"I know." He handed it over. She tossed it into the trash. Tom frowned. Seeing his water being thrown away made him realize how thirsty he was. He was in such a rush to get to the airport, he hadn't had anything to drink all day.

_I'll get something after security._

"Step up." The man called, beckoning Tom to step forward. Tom looked around.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you." The man deadpanned. "Come on. We don't have all day."

A flush of embarrassment brought color to Tom's cheeks. He walked inside the chamber.

"Hold your hands above your head."

Tom did as he was instructed. The scanner passed over his body, making a strange whirring sound.

"Okay. Step out on this side."

Tom stood still. A worker who was in his mid-thirties who could've easily passed for being in his twenties came over. "Hold on a sec, sir. Hold your arms out."

Tom nervously lifted his arms. The guy patted around Tom's ankles and up his legs. Tom flinched at the contact. After what seemed like forever, the man stopped.

"You're good, not to mention a little handsome too."

Tom wasn't sure how to take that. It was a compliment, yes, but it also felt a bit dirty. The guy's gaze lingered on him a little too long to feel like an innocent compliment.

"Uh, thanks." Tom muttered, rushing off towards the conveyor belt. He tracked down his bag and trays with his possessions. After shoving everything back in his backpack and putting on his sneakers, he left security.

He checked his phone. Forty minutes. That was plenty of time to find something to eat and locate his gate. Tom passed by expensive stores with well known brand names and headed to the row of restaurants. A lot were sit down, which Tom skimmed over. 

_To maximize my time, I should find something I can grab and eat at the gate. I think I see a bagel stand a little ways down._

Tom was right. A bagel stand named _Bart's Bagels_ came more clearly into view. It was surprisingly empty. When Tom walked up to the counter, he was the only one in line. A girl with brown hair pulled into a ponytail finished hitting buttons on the register before she looked up at Tom.

"Welcome to _Bart's_. How can I help you?"

"I'll take a sesame seed bagel, a water, and a medium coffee."

"Your total comes to $7.29."

Tom handed the girl a ten. She gave him back change. "The coffee and bagel will be ready in a couple minutes. Here's your water."

Tom tossed the water bottle into his backpack and waited patiently off to the side. A business man in a gray suit approached the counter and placed his order. When he was finished, he stood by Tom. Tom saw the man eye him judgmentally. 

_I probably look like a dumb, lost kid who has no idea what he's doing and clearly doesn't belong here. I mean, it wouldn't be that far off._

"Your coffee and your bagel."

Tom glanced at the counter. Sure enough, a small brown cup and a wrapped bagel was there. He nodded a thanks to the cashier and grabbed his order. His stomach was growling impatiently. Tom bowed to the pressure and started eating the bagel as he walked to his gate.

Most of the seats at the gate were empty. He sat down in the middle of a fully empty row of chairs. The bagel was gone within minutes; the only reminder being the mess of crumbs clinging to Tom's shirt. He brushed them off, knocking the crumbs to the blue floor.

The coffee helped wake Tom up. The more he drank, the more lively and attentive he became. He noticed the large TV overhead showing departure times and the soft blue of the walls around him. He looked out the window at the bright blue sky, letting himself relax. He was at the gate; no more worrying about making it there in time. Now all he had to do was wait until it was time to board.

Tom took a sip of his coffee, which had cooled to a lukewarm temperature, and checked his phone. He had a text from Brian.

(7:02 AM): I liked your note. Miss you already Tommy boy

Tom let the nickname slide. Smiling, he replied.

(7:35 AM): _I knew you would :)_

"Is this seat taken?"

Tom looked up. A blonde-haired boy was standing in front of him. He was wearing a black button up, the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His pants were black and high waisted. Overall, Tom thought it was a strange outfit to wear, being that it was summer in California. Summer was hot enough around the US, but in California it was deadly.

"No." With all the empty seats around them, Tom found it strange the guy wanted the one right next to him. The guy sat down, crossing his legs.

"Going off to Paris?" The blonde boy said in an almost patronizing voice. "That's a long way. Pretty far from here."

"You're going too, it looks like." Tom remarked, looking the boy up and down. "Sure you can handle that?"

The boy chuckled, moving his hair out of his face. "I'm sure I can. What about you?"

"Yeah, I can." Tom said, narrowing his eyes. Did he confidently believe in his ability to prevail in a foreign country? Absolutely not. But was he going to let blondie here know that? Also no.

The boy nodded, somewhat unconvincingly. "Maybe we'll run into each other. I'm Mason, what's your name?"

"Tom."

"Tom." The boy repeated. "Interesting. Well Tom, I hope you have a good flight." He slipped on a pair of circular black shades.

"You too."

*****

Tom got stuck in a middle seat near the back of the plane, so it was safe to say it wasn't the most pleasant flight. Not only was it a middle seat, but he was next to a young kid who kept hogging the arm rest and obnoxiously screaming as he played on his handheld game device. On his other side, an old man snored. It wouldn't have been bad if the man's head didn't rest on Tom's shoulder. Tom tried his best to inch away, but he didn't really have much wiggle room. Planes were compact as it was. His seat was nearly pushed together with the surrounding two.

_If only I was in first class seating. If only._

Tom spent most of the ten hours and thirty minutes wishing he had better seating, attempting to take a nap (which didn't work whatsoever), and counting down the minutes until the plane landed. It was a cruel waiting game, leaving Tom desperately hoping that somehow time would speed up.

After he had grown bored of monitoring the time, he turned to people watching. To his far left was a woman with her hair pulled up into a loose bun. She thumbed through a magazine. Further near the front of the plane was a middle aged man in a pressed white shirt on a laptop. Out of all the people he examined, he couldn't find Mason.

_Did he miss the flight? I could've sworn I saw him get on._

His question was answered when the plane made its eventual landing. Tom's limbs ached from being in one position for so long that the first time he moved up from out of his seat, he groaned in pain. He stretched the best he could while he waited to grab his backpack from the overhead compartment.

Once he was off the plane, he saw Mason typing on his phone. Tom walked over to him.

"Have a good flight?"

Mason looked up from his bright screen, smiling as he saw Tom. "Oh yes, very much so. First class always has lots of room and great movies to pick from to watch."

The shock must have been visible on Tom's face, because Mason laughed. "I'm guessing the same couldn't be said about where you sat."

Tom shook his head. "Understatement of the year. I'm glad it's over."

Mason went back to typing on his phone. "Maybe next time, I can get you a first class seat by me. See you around, mon chéri." His fingers brushed Tom's wrist as he left the gate. Tom watched him fade into the mass of people all flocking the airport.

_I should go to baggage claim and get my suitcase._

Luckily, baggage claim wasn't far from where Tom had come in. He found it with relative ease. The more stressful part was waiting around hoping his luggage made it over with him. He stood shoulder to shoulder with equally stressed people, all eyes on the rotating conveyor belt.

Before leaving, Tom had placed a red ribbon on the handle of his luggage so it would be easy to spot. As long as someone else didn't have the same idea, he would be fine.

In a couple minutes, a black suitcase with red ribbon came around by Tom. He snagged it off the moving belt as soon as he saw it.

_I landed safely, survived that long plane ride, and I got my luggage. I think I'm doing good so far._

It didn't hit Tom right away. It took until he glanced around and saw that most of the signs were in French first rather than English that it really set in.

_I'm in Paris. Wow. I'm really here._

Tom walked through the airport trying to find the exit and not freak out. He kept his breathing as rhythmic as possible and focused on looking for the sign that indicated taxis were available. He spotted it hanging above, along with a bunch of other things like where bathrooms were and food. Though he had to go to the bathroom himself, he was more intent on getting out of airport hell and finding a taxi.

"Taxi?" A man asked in English. There was a heavy accent, making it sound like another word.

"Huh?"

"Taxi." The man pointed to one of the black cars parked along the side of the road. 

Tom felt incredibly stupid for not getting that the first time. He nodded. "Yes."

The man took Tom's luggage and opened the back door for him, saying something in French to the driver. Tom hesitantly got in. He wasn't used to hearing another language yet, and it made him wish he put a little more effort in trying to retain it when he was learning about France.

"Where is your location?" The driver called out from the front. At that moment, Tom froze and had a scary realization.

_I have no where to stay._

*****

"I, uh," Tom said nervously, looking down. "Don't exactly have a place to go..."

The driver didn't understand what Tom was talking about. He adjusted his mirror and asked again. "Where is your location we are going?"

"Uh..." 

_What am I supposed to say!? I don't have anywhere to stay. I can't just make something up._

"Take me to a hotel in the heart of the city." Tom wasn't sure where it came from, but the idea left his mouth before it reached his mind. It wasn't a bad one; a hotel would be good until he could secure some sort of more permanent living arrangement.

"What hotel?"

"Any."

The man paused. "Ok." The car surged forward, making Tom's head hit the back of the seat. The traffic was heavy leaving the airport. Everyone was trying to leave at the same time. The driver weaved in and out of cars while Tom stared out the window.

So far, nothing resembled the pictures Tom saw. Most of what was around him was paved road and shapes of indistinguishable buildings in the distance. It didn't scream Paris. Tom was eager to see all of the beautiful architecture that drew him to want to come here in the first place.

Once traffic thinned out, the man's driving became less erratic. Tom didn't have to worry about his head slamming back up against the seat as much.

"Are you new to Paris?"

"Yeah." Tom admitted, not finding the need to lie. The fact he asked to be taken to a random hotel was pretty indicative of that.

"Nice, nice. You'll love it. Many come here and never want to leave," The man said. Tom caught his smile in the rear view mirror. Tom didn't doubt it. He could easily understand why people chose to remain here, based on pictures alone. He wondered how that compared to the actual in person experience.

"I'm sure. Do you have any recommendations of what to see?"

"Oh, yes! Lot's." The man proceeded to list name after name of various points of interest. Tom couldn't keep up. He struggled to remember even one.

"Thank you." He thanked the man anyways. Tom turned back to the window. Buildings were coming more into focus, no longer formless shapes. Even through the glass of the window, Tom could see some of the details. There was a mix of colorful buildings and lovingly worn down ones. Tom wasn't sure which he liked better. The bright colors caught his attention, but the rustic ones were whimsical. He was glad he was strapped in, otherwise he would've been tempted to jump out of the car.

"I'm taking you to Hôtel Plaza Athénée." The man said, checking his mirrors before changing lanes. "Very beautiful, you'll like it."

Hôtel Plaza Athénée. Tom had never heard that name before. He pulled out his phone and searched it up. His mouth dropped. He scrolled through images of one of the nicest hotels he had ever seen. Glittering chandeliers, an outdoor patio surrounded by vines and trimmed hedges, high ceilings, marble counters, silk drapes, and not to mention a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower.

_There's no way I can afford this. I don't need to check the price to know that._

"I think maybe you should choose anoth-"

"We're here!" The man parked the car and looked back at Tom. "Oh you'll love it. I will get luggage for you." He pushed open his door and disappeared from Tom's view as he walked to the back of the taxi.

Tom stepped out of the car and looked up. The hotel's balconies had wrought iron fences guarding them that looked as if they had been coated in a thick layer of lacquer. On top of the shiny black stakes were leafy plants with red buds, matching the bright red color of the awnings around the hotel.

"Here you go, sir." The man handed the luggage over to Tom. "For the ride over, that will be 35 Euros." 

Another thing Tom idiotically forgot; he would have to convert his American Dollars to Euros. At this exact moment in time, he was mentally kicking himself.

"I don't, uh, have Euros right now. Would you take US dollars? Please?" Tom said, bordering on begging. If the man didn't accept it, he was basically screwed. The man gave him a weird look.

"You really aren't from around here, eh? Ok. Just because you have none. Next time, you won't be so lucky."

Tom sighed in relief. "How much is 35 Euros in Dollars?"

"Hmmm." The man rubbed his temple. "About 30 US."

Tom dug out his wallet and counted out 30 Dollars. "Here." 

The man pocketed the money. "Enjoy Paris." He got back into his car and drove off.

Tom looked back at the hotel. It was ridiculously expensive, but he didn't have much of a choice. He was without a car, and at least the hotel was a definite place he could sleep. He didn't know of any other places in the city. Not to mention, he was a little curious if the inside matched the impressive pictures on Google.

_I guess I'm splurging for my first night in Paris._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Mason wow if this wasn't a teric fic, I would totally ship Tom with Mason. Maybe I'll make something go down with them at some point idkkkkk //cue eye emoji//. Maybe, maybe not. We'll have to see what I think once I introduce Eric and the story flushes out more. Now that we're in Paris, you know what that means. Looking forward to writing the next chapter;)


	6. Striped Sweater

From the lobby alone, Tom could tell the pictures were no exaggeration. Large pillars held up the high ceiling. On the pillars were identical arrangements of purposely droopy violet flowers. In the center of the rounded ceiling, an intricate chandelier hung down over a swirly carpet. The pillars and the effortlessness of it all reminded Tom of classic Greek architecture and he wondered if suddenly he had been taken to Greece instead of Paris.

Sun flooded the lobby, dousing everything in a soft golden hue. Despite being indoors, Tom could feel the warmth. He walked up to the light brown desk nestled against one of the walls. A man in a black blazer and a white button up shirt wasn't paying attention to Tom's presence. He was more interested in a document on the desk.

"I need to book a room."

The man slowly brought his gaze to meet Tom's. He gave Tom a quick up and down glance.

"I think you have the wrong hotel. Might I suggest Hôtel de l'Espérance? I can give you the address." The accent made him sound even more snobbish.

"Nope. This is the right one." Tom reaffirmed, tightening his grip on his luggage.

_This guy thinks I'm poor. I mean, I don't exactly look wealthy, but I sure as hell aren't going to let him chase me away._

"Are you sure? I can give you several other options."

"I'm sure."

"Alright." The man, who's name tag read Charles, typed at the computer on his desk. "How many nights are you looking to stay with us?"

Tom paused before responding right away.

_Well, not that long. I can't afford this type of hotel for any longer than a couple days._

"Three days." Tom supposed that would be enough time to find a cheaper hotel and start looking into apartments. Staying here would put a dent into his money supply, no doubt about it. Three days alone was pushing it.

"What kind of room do you want?" Charles said, looking over at the wall, clearly bored by the whole interaction. Tom refrained from rolling his eyes.

"Any room you have is fine. I just need one for one person."

"Hmmmm, alright. I have an open room right now. Are you opposed to the color purple?"

Tom shook his head, thinking that was strange question to be asked. "No."

"The room is going to be a one-bedroom suite with a king size bed. Would you like to pay now or later?"

"Later, definitely. I need to have my money converted. What's the closest bank to here?"

Charles grabbed a post-it note and scribbled something down. "This one is within walking distance."

Tom added heading to the bank on the list of things he had to get done and took the post-it note. The writing wasn't the neatest, but he managed to decipher it. "Thank you."

"I'll have Evelyn take your luggage up to your room." Charles said, handing over a hotel key card. "Make sure you keep the card inside the slot for long enough or the door won't open."

Tom examined the card. The background was a solid maroon, making the gold cursive and hotel emblem stand out. He ran his fingers over it. It was smooth; not a single scratch or blemish on the surface.

A girl with silvery-blonde hair in a similar black blazer to Charles came over to Tom and shook his hand. "Tom?"

"That would be me."

The girl took the luggage. "I'm Evelyn. Thank you for choosing to stay with us. You'll love your room." The l in love was nearly silent, making it sound more like 'ove'. Her smile didn't waver the whole time Tom saw her. 

"I bet I will." Post-it note in hand, he followed Evelyn to the elevators. They walked inside. There was plenty of room for both of them to stand without having to be crunched together. Evelyn hit one of the buttons and the doors slid shut right away.

"How long are you going to be in Paris for?"

"Oh," Tom said. "I don't know yet." He wasn't thinking much about that. All he really wanted was to get the heavy bag off his shoulders and lay down. His body was exhausted after all of the traveling. He leaned up against the back of the elevator.

The _ding_ of the elevator was a pleasant sound to Tom's ears. He was glad to be walking down the hallway to his room. Evelyn was making conversation, but Tom didn't catch any of it. He was focused on not getting lost and trailing her closely.

"We're here." Evelyn stopped her fast paced walk in front of one of the many white doors. "I can open it for you."

"It's okay. I got it." Tom approached the door and slipped the card into the black slot. He waited, the light on the door blinking until it turned to a solid green. He turned the handle slowly, as if too much force would break it. Everything in the hotel was like that; beautiful, but fragile. Tom stopped in his tracks as the door swung open.

He could see why Charles had asked about purple now. The grey couch had three purple pillows resting on it, all having some fancy embroidery present. In front of the couch was an obsidian, square table. A bowl of assorted fruit and a vase of lavender flowers sat on the shiny table top. To the right and left of the table were two twin purple chairs. Both were plush with ornamental backing. 

Gold and purple curtains hung down loosely aside the clear balcony doors. Another table and chair set was by one of the doors, and a desk by the other. Tom stepped forward, eyes wide and taking in every little detail.

Evelyn's airy laugh filled the massive room. "It's quite impressive, I know. We make sure our customers get the most out of their time here."

Tom glanced over to the powdery white mantle. On top of it was a golden clock with precise carvings. The face of the clock was in roman numerals, as Tom expected when he first laid eyes on the exquisite piece. It looked like something out of a castle.

"The bedroom is through that door back there." Evelyn motioned behind her. "But I'll let you explore that in your own time." She added a wink before giggling. "Well, I'll let you get settled now. I put your luggage down over by the table. If you need to get a hold of me, use the phone there." She pointed to the old school corded phone sitting on the desk.

"Have a good day."

She walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. Tom stayed frozen in the spot he was in for a couple of seconds before moving towards the bedroom. The door was already cracked open. He peeked in, observing the room from afar.

The bed had splashes of the color scheme throughout; a singular purple pillow at the head of the bed and a blanket with both purple and gold dangling off the edge. At the foot of the bed was a soft bench marked with the hotel's symbol. Two bedside tables stood symmetrically across from each other. Not only were they the same closeness to the bed, but they also both had a small series of pale flowers on them.

In front of the balcony doors of the bedroom was another square table and two chairs. Tom walked over to the doors. The curtains were pulled back by a thick golden rope. Tom clicked open the lock on the doors and carefully stepped onto the balcony.

Sunset was upon Paris as Tom looked around. The whole city was cast in a gentle yellow light. All of the buildings looked soft despite being made of hard stone. His breath was taken away as he stared on.

_This is so beautiful. I have to take a picture._

Tom held his phone out, capturing the city onto the compact phone screen. He snapped a couple pictures. Each time he would change the angle slightly to get some variety. After the photo shoot, he reviewed his camera roll.

_It doesn't look as nice as it does in person, but that's okay. That's usually how it is._

Putting his phone away, Tom walked back inside. As much as he wanted to look around more of the hotel and see what else it had to offer, a growing tiredness was overtaking his body. He climbed onto the bed, not bothering to settle under the covers. He passed out in under a minute; a new record for Tom.

*****

Tom blinked slowly as he woke up the next morning. He had no idea what time it was. All he knew was that it was pretty bright. So much so, that it blinded him. He shielded his eyes and waited for them to adjust. His senses sharpened the more time he gave himself to wake up. He heard the call of birds from outside and the distant car horns.

He checked his phone.

8:37 AM.

The contentedness of getting a good amount of sleep was short lived once Tom opened his phone.

_I have 6 missed calls and 10 texts from Brian. That's strange..._

Tom read through the text messages, feeling like an idiot the further on he read.

_I forgot to tell Brian I landed. I'm the worst best friend ever, jeez. He probably thinks I died in a crash or something._

Tom wasted no time in calling Brian. Every ring made him bite his lip harder.

_Pick up. Pick up. Pick up._

"Tom? Is that actually you?"

Hearing Brian's voice even if just over the phone comforted Tom greatly. He smiled, holding the phone to his ear.

"Yeah. I'm so sorry I forgot to let you know I got here safely. I pretty much fell asleep as soon as I got to my room. No need to plan a funeral."

Tom heard Brian sigh in relief on the other side of the line. "Thank god. I was really worried."

"I'm sorry," Tom apologized again. "I was so tired. How was your first day alone at the apartment?"

"Well, I've already loaned your room out to Jackson." 

"Hah. You're so funny." Tom rolled his eyes and scoffed. "I would have to kill you."

"Don't worry. I wouldn't let Jackson within 10 feet of our apartment." 

"Make it 20 and you got a deal.

"Works for me," Brian agreed. "You never told me. Where are you staying?"

"Welllll," Tom sat up and leaned his head against the extravagant headboard. "For my first few days here, I'm staying somewhere super... here let me just show you. Ignore my messy bed hair." He hung up the call and hit the FaceTime button. Brian answered right away.

"Nice hair." Brian snickered. Tom should've known that if he told Brian not to point it out that he would.

"Shhhh okay look at this." He flipped the camera so it was on the bedroom. He slowly panned over everything. Brian couldn't contain his shock.

"You're staying here?! What the hell? If I knew it would be this nice, I would've come with you." 

"Only for a couple more days. It's pretty pricey and I still have yet to pay. I haven't converted my money over to Euros." After the FaceTime with Brian wrapped up, he would head out to the bank. He couldn't afford (literally and metaphorically) to lounge around all day.

"You could just run and find somewhere else to stay that's cheaper. Yesterday would be free." Brian suggested, flicking a strand of hair out of his eyes.

"Another fabulous Brian idea. Then I'll be a criminal in the country I plan to live in for a bit. Sounds good." 

"You'll have to wear a disguise for the whole time. I think you should try blonde hair."

"Me? Blonde? I don't think so." At the mention of blonde hair, Tom thought about Mason. He wondered what he was up to.

"What's the conversion rate for Euros?" Brian said.

"Not sure. I'll find out when I get to the bank." Tom yawned, the traces of sleep still in his system. "Want to see the rest of the hotel before I go?"

Brian nodded. "Of course I do!"

*****

The hotel tour took ten minutes. Brian insisted on seeing every little crevice and part of the various furniture pieces. Tom learned more about the suite in the process. He didn't notice some of the smaller details when he was first overwhelmed walking into the room yesterday.

Tom took a shower immediately after the call. He felt grimy and gross after the long journey over and wanted to rid himself of the filth on his clothes. The bathroom was so large, it had both a tub that was more like a basin, and a glass shower.

_Though the bath is tempting, I think I'll try it out later._

Tom relished in the hot water that poured over his sore body. Not even two minutes in, and he already was significantly less achy. He dried off with his special pineapple towel. The item brought him a nice sense of familiarity. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought he was showering in the apartment. Well, if the apartment was upgraded, that was.

With the towel wrapped around him, he strolled through the suite to his luggage. All of his clothes were folded neatly in tight little squares. Tom unfurled a lavender shirt and set it aside. He changed into the shirt, a pair of navy blue jeans, and an off white jean jacket.

"How did you sleep last night, Mr.Phelan?" Charles greeted him as he came into the lobby. He was in the same dark uniform as the previous day and had the same uptight air about him.

"Very well. The bed was really comfortable." Tom said. "Have a nice day."

"You too." Charles got right back to work, picking up a telephone and speaking in French. Tom walked through the revolving doors and out into the city.

_I hope I don't get lost._

Fortunately, luck was on Tom's side. He only had to ask for directions a couple of times on his way to the bank. It was a moderately sized bank. Today seemed to be a quieter day, because most of the tellers were open. Tom waited in line until he was called.

"I need to convert my money to Euros."

"Alright. We can do that."

The process took about twenty minutes. Tom never had to exchange money before, so he was pretty lost during the whole experience. He let the woman guide him and passively listened. When she informed him his money had been changed over, he nearly cheered.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Tom said, shaking the woman's hand. Now that that was done, he decided to would go explore the city further. No time like the present to get acquainted with his surroundings.

And surroundings he did see. Tom walked through Paris with an amazed look on his face. He couldn't get enough of it; the cute boutiques, the street lamps, the cobble stone lined paths, and the tall buildings with guarded balconies. On more than one occasion, Tom ran into someone as he gaped at all of the city unfolding before him.

_How was I okay with just staying at that shitty supermarket? I have no idea how I kept doing that for as long as I did._

The scenery shifted from buildings and stores to more natural elements like sprawling green lawns. Across the street was a quaint park. Tom waited for the light to change to cross. While he was waiting, he glanced around him. Leaning up against a street lamp near him was a young guy, roughly his age, maybe a bit younger. Tom wasn't exactly sure. His face was obscured by a mess of blondish-brown curls and what appeared to be a sketchbook he was hunched over.

The light turned green. People around Tom walked forward, going across the street. Tom remained frozen in his place. Something about the guy caught his interest more than the park. He wasn't sure what is was. The look on the guy's face was focused, almost as if he was the only one in the city of Paris. He didn't pay attention to anyone around him.

Not wanting to disturb him, Tom crept over slowly. He peeked around the guy's head and looked down at the sketchbook. An outline of a building in messy pen was on the page.

"Can I help you?" Tom was jarred when the guy looked over his shoulder and up at Tom, hazel green eyes trained on him. It made Tom feel like an intruder.

Tom blushed, dropping his gaze. "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to bother you. I was curious at what you were drawing."

"You could've just asked. I'm drawing that building over there." The guy said. "You might want to look back over here so I can show you."

Tom hesitantly lifted his head back up towards the guy, who pointed to a red building so faded it was pale pink. "It'll look better when I paint it."

_I don't understand why I'm so shy right now. Usually, I have no problem, talking to people. I mean I did when I was younger, but not when I got older. Maybe I just need more sleep._

"Isn't it uncomfortable to draw while you're standing?" Tom asked, trying to put his nervousness aside. The guy shook his head.

"One would think so, but no. I'm okay working wherever inspiration strikes." He adjusted the sleeve of his black and white striped sweater. "Though I do wish I had worn something lighter."

"Its not that warm." Tom was used to California heat. It was probably somewhere in the 70's, but that was nothing compared to the triple digits that it reached often. The guy gave him a look like he was crazy.

"Not that warm? I can tell you aren't from around here."

"California." Tom responded. The guy still looked confused.

"California?"

"It's in the United States." Tom said, feeling stupid. This guy was probably a Parisian native and he expected him to know specific states.

_Maybe he isn't native here though. His English is pretty good._

The guy nodded. "That's pretty far. What made you want to come here?"

"Secret." Tom slyly smiled. "I can't tell you everything right away."

The guy's eyes flashed. "A little mystery... I can bite. Can you at least tell me your name?"

"Hmmmm," Tom thought about it for a moment. "Tom. What's your name?"

"I'll tell you next time we meet." The guy said, placing his pen behind his ear. 

"That's risky. It counts on the fact that we will end up meeting again." Tom said. So this guy wanted to be mysterious too? He couldn't lie. It intrigued him greatly. There was something about the fact that seeing him wouldn't be guaranteed which excited him. The guy nodded once.

"Correct."

"Paris is big. The chances of that happening are slim." Tom stated, thinking about how realistic it was to see this guy somewhere. They would have to be at the same place at the same exact time. No easy feat.

"You never know." The guy smiled, closing his sketchbook. "I'll see you around-" He started walking away but before he was out of earshot, he added "maybe."

Tom was left with a confusing mess of thoughts. He had completely forgotten what he planned to do. It was like his day truly started after the interaction with the artistic stranger. He wanted to chase him down and figure out who he was and why he was drawing in the first place. It seemed Tom's luck had run out, because by the time he snapped out of his daze, there was no sight of a striped sweater anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so you have it! Eric has been introduced (although obviously Tom doesn't know that's his name). Already one interaction in and I love their chemistry so that's a good sign. Also when this chapter goes up, it will be my birthday (the 15th) and so that's pretty cool.


End file.
